


I’m not made of glass, however broken of a doll I am

by Woven_Rainbows



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Disabled Character, Dogs, Fluff, Implied surgery and life threatening disease, It’s omegaverse, M/M, Miscarriage, Omegaverse, Plot Twist, Sad stuff man, Smut, UKUS, USUK - Freeform, a/b/o dynamics, but don’t worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woven_Rainbows/pseuds/Woven_Rainbows
Summary: It’s all a whirlwind of colours and lights passing by, but if you concentrate and close your eyes to collect yourself, the dizzy feeling will come to an end, and you can finally be you again.Alfred is a disabled Alpha who works as a part time waiter at a local cafe, Arthur is an omega florist who constantly fights anxiety.





	1. Mend

 

Waiting to cross the street with his muscular hands at the wheel, Alfred was carelessly checking his phone and texting his fiancé about whatnot, what to have for dinner, how the dry heat was killing his fiancé’s prized roses and such. Before he knew it, cars were driving in the road in front of him. He had missed his damn cross signal, and now he had to sit all sweaty in the mid afternoon heat of a Seattle summer day, in a leather backed wheelchair no less, so everything stuck to his sweaty back. It meant he’d have to wait another five minutes or so to cross, after all, it was rush hour in a big city.

Alfred was used to being gawked at by small children, after all he was a man with little to no legs, and that fascinated most children, even sometimes struck fear in others. But today, there was something about that short little kid across the street holding his mother’s hand, staring at him like he was too fragile to even be outside in the somewhat harsh sun, that made him snap.

He turned off his phone and slipped it into his right pocket on the wheelchair, and covered his face with his hands as he cried. Before he knew it, he had missed the next cross signal.

 

If ever there was mercy in this world, for Alfred F. Jones, it came in the form of a beautiful, snarky, green-eyed Brit named Arthur. As a young child, Alfred had enjoyed sports such as American football and soccer, baseball, and at times he had even dabbled in tennis and bowling. He was a healthy kid who had tons of friends and was the coolest guy out of all the sixth graders.

At the extremely young age of fourteen, Alfred came down with peripheral arterial disease, and had to get both of his legs amputated. This of all things, was not what he had needed to couple up with his struggles with depression. Like most people do, Alfred eventually accepted it and lived his life as who he was. A young boy who was going to live a great life, and who also just so happened to have near no legs.

He had met Arthur at sixteen, when they were both at an all time low, Alfred in his depression and Arthur in his anxiety. They quickly grew close. Alfred through all his fighting spirit had eventually given up, but Arthur managed to fight through and help him. After half a year had passed and things had balanced themselves out, they confessed and after a quick two years got engaged.

So now Alfred was twenty two, and Arthur was twenty four. They lived in a small house in uptown Seattle with their two golden retrievers, Crusher and Hero. (They had been presents to Alfred from Arthur when they moved in together, thus their names.) Arthur had his very own flower shop and Alfred was a waiter at a cafe close to home. They lived at ease, as Arthur has inherited his family’s company, thus making end’s meet was the least of their problems. They were anything but unhappy together.

 

 


	2. Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred is tempted by old habits, and he and Arthur fuck.

Alfred made it home just fine, like he did every other day. Alfred figured that Arthur was outside in the front yard where his little greenhouse/flower shop was, as he usually was during its business hours. Alfred rolled over the ramp they had installed on the back of the one story house and fumbled for his keys in the left pocket of his wheelchair. 

When he rolled into the kitchen, about to shamelessly go back into old habits to somewhat relieve his depression, he found Arthur there filling up a vase of water in the kitchen sink. Arthur noticed him, shut the tap off, then turned to face Alfred. He was about to ask him how his day was when he noticed Alfred’s puffy and red eyes. Before he could comment on it, Alfred asked, “Why aren’t you in your shop?”  
Arthur gazed wistfully at him for a moment before replying, “It’s too hot out today, I was nearly fainting from the heat,” Alfred responded with a quiet, “Oh,” 

Arthur had a pretty good guess as to what Alfred had been headed to the kitchen for, as it wouldn’t be the first time. To gorge himself and then to puke it all up and pretend that he was purging out all his internal problems rather than the contents of his stomach. “Say, Alfred, do you want to go to that new ice cream place that just opened across the street?” Arthur inquired, hoping that something good may come of it, something along the lines of Alfred collecting himself in the company of his love, rather than making himself only more miserable. “Sure!” he replied with a grin on his face. Arthur never understood how he put up a solid wall.

Later that night, they had curled up in bed after watching the first three films to an extremely popular eight-part British film series. As most nights, Alfred played big spoon and Arthur was little spoon. Suddenly, Alfred heaved his weight around and pinned the poor Brit beneath him. “Arthur,”  
“What do you want? You’re heavy,”  
“I want sex,”  
Arthur playfully let out an exasperated sigh.  
“Aww, come on, Artie!”  
“Don’t call me that, Alfred,”  
“So sex or no,”  
Letting out a bemoaned sigh, Arthur gave in.  
“Fine, I suppose. Are you sure you’re not a teenager still? You act as horny as a rabbit sometimes,”  
“You’re not one to talk, Artie,”  
Arthur let the nickname slip by as Alfred slipped two fingers into his partially slick entrance, his breathing becoming laboured as Alfred started to thrust the digits. Alfred mouthed at his neck, either childishly blowing a raspberry or sensually sucking a hickey to the surface of his fiancé’s skin. 

He came off with a slight pop, and asked “Can you ride me tonight? I don’t want to get a back cramp if we do missionary, I have a full shift at work tomorrow,” Arthur hastily agreed and so Alfred pulled his fingers out and flopped onto his back. Arthur straddled him and made quick work of sinking down onto Alfred’s engorged cock, moaning softly as inch by inch sunk deeper into his welcoming pert ass. Arthur slipped over the deflated knot with a pleasured groan, and finally his ass met the only slightly unkept hairs on his fiancé’s balls. He hummed contently and said, “You always fill me up so nice, Alfred,” 

Alfred groped his ass cheeks and practically growled back, “And you’re always so nice and tight for me, babe,” he emphasised the ‘tight’ with a buck of his hips, causing Arthur to gasp in surprise. “Even though I fuck my little slut as much as he wants, he always stays so tight for me.” He had started bucking up with every other word, wanting Arthur to ride him hard. 

Arthur leaned down to kiss his left nipple as Alfred kept thrusting at a leisurely pace. Through bites and licks of said nipple, Arthur mewled out, “Yes, yes, your slut, only your’s, I’m your tight little slut,” Alfred’s pace faltered as he got a slight cramp in his back. He pushing Arthur up away from his nipples into a sitting position. “Ride me, doll face. Ride as hard as you want it, and I know that that’s damn hard,” 

So he did. He started madly bouncing up and down on Alfred, using most of his body weight to spear himself onto Alfred’s cock, over and over and over again, all the while moaning softly and breathing heavy. Before too long, his movements became erratic and he came lightly, his cum dribbling down onto his balls then onto Alfred’s stomach. Alfred groaned as Arthur tightened yet further around him, and he bucked up into him the last few times and came into Arthur, his knot inflating slightly. Arthur tumbled to the slide, Alfred’s flaccid cock slipping out of him. He cuddled up close to Alfred’s chest and they both managed to exchange a murmured sleepy “I love you,” before they drifted off into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m very surprised at how well received this is so far! It makes me happy. Sorry if the sex scene was too bland.


	3. The heated horrors that lay within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur goes into heat just like every other month.

Alfred sat on the couch with Hero and Crusher curled up to his sides. He lazily pet their ears as they all watched a SuperMan movie. Alfred had wanted to be a super hero when he was little, he wanted to be able to save people from dangerous villains, but later on in life, he could’ve even save him from himself. He did end up a hero to Arthur, and to him, that was everything. Arthur was his everything. All he ever had, the single ray of hope.

Both of the dogs’ ears twitched upwards at the sound of the front door opening and Arthur taking off his gardening boots. Without the usual joking of a falsely sweet ‘I’m home,’ Alfred grew suspicious. He quietly yet quickly manoeuvred himself into his wheelchair and slightly hurriedly started pushing towards Arthur. When he made it to the front entrance, he was greeted with the sight of Arthur bracing himself on the wall with a flushed face, panting slightly. When he noticed Alfred, he shifted his weight from the wall and back to his feet. Before Alfred knew it, he had his lovely fiancé’s legs wrapped around his waist and his slim arms draped around his shoulders.

“Are you in preheat?” Arthur responded with a curt nod. He smirked slightly, and then began pushing Arthur and him to their heat room. Arthur had started crying silently in longing, his heat growing stronger. Once they made it to the heat room, Alfred carefully detached Arthur’s arms and coaxed him into getting into his nest. He then promptly followed suit, embracing Arthur from his back. Tears continued to drift down his face. Alfred started stripping Arthur, being as gentle with him as one would a newborn. Once Arthur was completely bare he removed his own shit and slipped off his boxers, and slid into his love, holding him close and never letting go.

That’s how most of their heats went. Slow and sweet lovemaking. The delirium would distract them from the truth. Every knot tied, pointless. Useless. A waste. Arthur always cries during his heats, as even through the haze he subconsciously knows the truth. He’s an infertile omega, and he always will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Chapter three! May seem a little rushed but this is where the plot starts to seep in. If the following are triggers for you; miscarriages, near death of close family, hard and depressing angst, or extreme panic attacks written by someone who experiences them regularly, I would not recommend reading any further in this story after chapter four gets up. 
> 
> On a lighter note, thank you all so much for all the support this has been receiving, it may not look like much but it means the world to me.


End file.
